


Banana-Melon Smoothie

by bittenfeld



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: Two alpha males... a locked room... and raw need...Stepping even closer into Takatora's space, Kaito looked right up at the taller man.  "If you think I'm overwhelmed that a big company president wants to get into my pants, you're badly mistaken.  I don't make a habit of whoring myself for rich corporate bigshots.""And yet you're here," Takatora countered levelly, "so you're obviously willing to make an exception for this corporate bigshot."My new favorite pairing, and sex, sex, and - dare I say - more sex...!
Relationships: Kumon Kaito/Kureshima Takatora
Kudos: 11





	Banana-Melon Smoothie

“Yes, Prime Minister. Of course you’re on the list. You and your wife don’t have to worry about a thing. Believe me, you were one of the first Yggdrasill considered,” Kureshima Takatora reassured the man on the other end of the phone. And at the same time, wondered how the leak got started and how much was leaked. It would be quite importune for the world to find out what was really being planned behind Yggdrasill Corporation’s locked doors. “But I must ask, how did you happen to hear of this, Prime Minister?”

“Well, I don’t know much,” the blowhard dictator of the third-world country halfway around the globe admitted. “One of my advisors heard about it, and he didn’t have a lot to tell me. Just that there’s a big danger coming, and Yggdrasill can protect some of us.”

“Yes, that’s what we’re hoping,” Takatora admitted.

“Well, what is it?” the man goaded. “So, what is this big danger anyway?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say much,” Yggdrasill’s chairman of the board apologized. “But don’t worry. It’s probably nothing, We’re just taking precautions, that’s all. We’re still studying matters, and we wouldn’t want word to get out early and frighten everybody. That’s why we have to be a bit secretive. If the whole world found out about it, everybody would be clamoring for our protection. Unfortunately, we’re just one minor corporation, so we can’t promise safety to all seven-billion people on earth. I’m sure you understand, Prime Minister, and can keep this information close to your vest.”

“Oh, absolutely,” the man agreed. “If you tried to protect everybody, there wouldn’t be enough to go around, and there might not be any left for me and my family. That’s why I wanted to call you and make sure my family’s protected.”

“Well, I can assure you of that. So, you even don’t need to think about it anymore. Yggdrasill is keeping everything in mind. Yes, goodbye, Prime Minister.”

As he cut the connection, a quiet sough of disdain passed Takatora’s lips. The prime minister and his family – in fact his whole country – were on the list, all right. But not the list he was thinking of, not the list of one-billion driver recipients. Because it was true – Yggdrasill couldn’t protect the entire human population from the deadly invasion of the Helheim Forest. At most, they could save one-billion of the of earth’s seven-billion inhabitants. The other six-billion – well, they were on the other list, the list for the mass holocaust of the Scalar Electro-Magnetic System. Without drivers to render the toxic Helheim fruit edible, and nothing else left to eat, those left out would eat it and mutate into the monstrous Inves horrors, and threaten the safety of the one-billion. It was a wrenching choice, but also the only practical one. It was the choice of one-billion being saved, or nobody being saved.

But Takatora hadn’t lied to the man – there really wasn't anything to worry about. The Scalar System’s rays would sweep across entire cities vaporizing every living thing, every object is its path in a few seconds, rendering the entire area into ash. There wouldn’t be time to be frightened, no dying in agony. Before anyone could even begin to realize what was happening, they would be disintegrated to dust. In fact, it was probably the most humane system of mass annihilation that had ever been designed. And Kureshima Takatora was satisfied with that. To have the deaths of six-billion people heavy on his conscience was the terrible burden of noblesse oblige that he had already chosen to accept – however, to cause them suffering or mental anguish would be unforgivable.

Strolling behind the heavy mahogany executive desk, hands in slacks’ pockets, Takatora gazed out the heavy plate-glass floor-to-cathedral-ceiling windows at the panorama of the city 60 stories below. Zawame City – his city. Well, more truthfully – Yggdrasill’s city. Yggdrasill Corporation owned everything within the city’s boundaries, the administration, infrastructure, media, schools, hospitals, and most of the commerce. Ten years before, his father, Kureshima Amagi, had taken this bustling but messy little town of 20,000 inhabitants, and transformed it into the perfectly-run metropolis where every need of the populace was furnished. Granted, that had meant much of the land and business had to be bought out by eminent domain, and there were some residents who griped about how the loose and relaxed atmosphere from before had now been replaced with the feeling of a jōkamachi – a castle-town – and who resented what they felt to be castle authoritarianism. Well, they were free to leave – after all, it wasn’t a locked citadel – but most of them stayed and grumbled, all the while enjoying the benefits of this company town. 

And in the center of it stood Yggdrasill Tower, the ‘castle’ of this town, a huge mushroom- shaped structure 1500 feet high, encircled by the floating anti-grav Scalar Ring. This particular version of the annihilation device wasn’t intended for the culling of the city, at least not yet, but to be activated in the off-chance of an army of Helheim Inves getting through the dimensional cracks and invading this world en masse. Zawame City wasn’t necessarily meant for the list of the six-billion holocaust. But even in that case, Kureshima Takatora would feel no compunction about vaporizing the city to the ground in order to save the rest of the world – however temporarily.

Abruptly the sharp beep of a low-level alarm interrupted his musings. The intercom light for the front reception desk flashed red, and he pressed a button to bring up the multiple security-camera views of the lobby-floor on the monitor screen. In the northwest corridor, where the elevator to Takatora's office at the top of the Yggdrasill Tower was located, a man strode purposely down the hall, a long-coated man dressed in red and black:

Kumon Kaito.

A sudden sting danced up from Takatora’s groin to his solar plexus at the sight of the ex-Beat Rider, ex-leader of the street dance-team, Team Baron. Ever since Kaito had been taken into custody at Yggdrasill three months earlier, something about the other man had been worming its way into his mind, into his genitals... something that told him he wanted that man, something that refused to let go until they’d shared explosive union.

As though he knew he was being watched – and watched by Kureshima – Kaito looked right up at the camera as he strode by, a sharp challenging glint in his eyes. 

Alerted too by the alarm, a couple of guards ran down the corridor toward him. “Halt!” one called, as their hands dropped to the holsters on their hips. A blasé expression ghosted over Kaito’s face, of mild irritation, that he obviously had no interest at the moment in dealing with such a petty nuisance. Increasing his stride to meet them head-on, he stopped one man with a sharp straight jab to the stomach; at the same time swinging a leg to catch the other one at the knees

Takatora hit the intercom button. “Stand down!” he called, even as the first man on the floor reached for his pistol. But before he could even draw it, a hard kick to the wrist knocked his hand away; and even over the intercom, Takatora could hear arm bones crack. Without wasting a move, Kaito followed through with a punch to the side of the face that dropped the man like a stunned rabbit.

As the second guard started to scrabble to his feet, Kaito grabbed fistfuls of uniform-front and dragged him up the rest of the way, then launched a brutal roundhouse punch to the jaw that could snap a neck. The man went limp, and Kaito dropped him carelessly on the floor.

That small matter concluded, Kaito continued striding down the hall, as though he’d hardly been interrupted. A man on a mission; and Kureshima could guess what that mission was.

“Take elevator #4 on the left,” Takatora announced over the intercom. Again the intruder looked up at the next camera as he passed by, a knowing smirk at the corner of his lips. Keying the remote code on his laptop, Takatora opened the elevator doors, and Kaito entered without hesitation. Then with another code, the elevator doors closed and the lift rose to the floor of Takatora’s office. Once it reached the 60th floor, the elevator opened, and Kaito strode out across the hallway and between the glass doors into the large room where Takatora waited.

“I left some trash downstairs,” the red-and-black-clad man announced without preface. “You might want to check on them.”

“Alive or dead?” Takatora questioned blandly.

Kaito just shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t care.”

“You trusted me to enter the elevator,” Takatora observed. “It could have been a trap to hold you.”

Kaito looked around the elegant but sparsely furnished office. “Yeah, well, you wanted me here, and I came of my own free will, so there wouldn’t be much reason to take me prisoner.”

At that, Takatora raised a neat eyebrow, but didn’t respond to the remark. Warmth was spreading through his loins, even as his expression remained neutral.

Kaito stood before him, arms spread, “So, I’m here.” Strolling closer to the taller man, he announced, “You want sex? That’s what you called me here for.”

The other man’s insight caught Takatora off-guard. Was he that transparent? Well, he wanted the man, all right, but he didn’t want to appear desperate and begging. “What makes you say that?” he covered casually.

Kaito just shrugged and turned away to leave. “Fine, if you want to play games, I’m bored. See you.”

“Wait!” Takatora stopped him. It was so close, and he didn’t want to lose the man so quickly.

Kaito turned back. “Well if you expect me to take the time and trouble to seduce you while you hang back and play little miss priss, you’re gonna be badly disappointed.” Then stepping even closer, into Takatora’s space, he looked right up at the taller man. “And if you think I’m overwhelmed that a big company president wants to get in my pants, you’re even more mistaken. I don’t make a habit of whoring myself for rich corporate bigshots.”

“And yet you’re here,” Takatora countered levelly, “so you’re obviously willing to make an exception for this corporate bigshot.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been watching me so much for the last several weeks, that I came out of curiosity.”

“You think I’ve been watching you? I’ve got a corporation to run. I don’t have time to be mooning over some street-rat Beat Rider.” – and yet lust was washing off of him in waves toward this man in front of him, and he knew it – and Kaito knew it, too.

“Well, you must want this Beat Rider,” Kaito retorted just as evenly. “You’re loud enough in my head. The way I figure, to want me, you must not be getting enough from Micchi.”

At that, Takatora did pull up shortly. “Mitsuzane?” he echoed. “You think I’m sleeping with my younger brother? That’s filthy – I wouldn’t dream of soiling his innocence like that.”

A sharp snort of surprise escaped Kaito’s nostrils. “Soiling his innocence? Micchi? The slut of Zawame City?”

Now Takatora was taken aback even more. “What are you talking about?” he shot back defensively. “Mitsuzane would never…”

“What – sleep with every member of every dance team in the city? let everyone into his pants from Ocean Walk all the way to your fancy mansions up in Kobayashi Hills?”

“Mitsuzane has nothing to do with your common little dance teams. He’s got far more vital interests – ”

“Oh yeah, like attending prestigious Yggdrasill Academy, and being groomed to sit on the corporate board. You think that’s what he really cares about?” Another snuff of disdain. “You don’t know your little brother very well at all, do you?”

Takatora regained his composure. “I suppose that means you’ve… slutted… with him too.” The word even tasted a little sour in his mouth when applied to otōto-kun.

“Nah, I don’t stick my cock where everyone else does. But everyone on my team has. And Team Gaim – he’s a member of that ‘common little dance team’. He and Kazuraba can hardly keep their hands off each other. Everyone on the streets knows they can get it good with him. Go ahead, ask him. He’ll tell you – if he feels like telling you the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me. Frankly I don’t give a damn if you do or not.” Hands in pockets, Team Baron’s leader strolled casually around the large open room, pausing at the long service table in the rear to take note of the 18th century porcelain Nabeshima-ware floral plate and matching pitcher on display between two tall bronze ikebana vases. Lifting the plate from its stand, he looked it over with casual interest; and briefly Takatora wondered if he might deliberately shatter the heirloom in contempt.

Instead Kaito just set it back onto its stand and continued his observational circuit; Kureshima’s gaze following him, until he stopped back in front of the corporate chairman leaning a hip against the edge of the desk, to let his gaze slide up and down the older man, lingering for a brief moment on the incipient swelling pulling at the front of Takatora’s trousers. “So, why me?” he asked directly. “What made you want this Beat Rider? – if you’re willing to stop playing games and admit that you do want me here.”

A small shift of head. Kaito was right, and he’d put up a façade of disinterest long enough. Kaito was here, now, and Takatora didn’t want to lose the opportunity. Besides, his body was already betraying him, so there wasn’t any point in denying it any longer. “It was while you and Kazuraba Kouta were in our custody,” he acknowledged. “The way you opposed Professor Ryōma, even when driven to your knees. The way you escaped from our security. The way you’ve fought all along – against us, I admit – but I have been impressed by your refusal to capitulate, even when the two of us have armored-up and crossed swords. You’ve shown utter determination, you’ve never wavered.”

“Yeah, well, speaking of custody, why didn’t you just take me then? I was handcuffed. You could have done anything you wanted to me.”

Casual retort tugged at Takatora’s lips. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not a rapist.” Then shifting his weight off the desk, he glanced toward the door on the back wall, to the right of the service table. “We can go to my suite to be more comfortable if you’d like,” he suggested. But as he started to walk toward the door, Kaito laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“No,” Kaito refused. “I want to do it here.” A nod to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the walnut executive desk. Taking a fistful of jacket-front, he casually but peremptorily walked Takatora a few backward steps, and Kureshima allowed it, then pushed him up against the heavy plate-glass window. “I want all of Zawame City to watch what I do to you.”

A hand gripping Kaito’s arm interrupted him. “You think I’m just going to let you take control – let you just do what you want?”

Kaito smirked. “Oh, I know you are – if you want it bad enough.”

“Not quite,” Takatora countered levelly, the amused challenge in his eyes clear. “If you think it’s all going to be your way, then you’re the one who’s badly mistaken, my friend.”

“I’ll make you surrender,” the auburn-haired street dancer promised.

“Well, at least it will be interesting to watch you try,” Kureshima riposted with a wisp of amusement. Then he pulled away long enough to key something on his keyboard. The glass doors closed and locked with a click while the doors and walls of the front of the office gradually transitioned from transparent to opaque.

“You don’t want your staff to see?” Kaito noticed. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Hardly,” Takatora countered. “I just don’t want someone to walk by and think I’m being attacked, and call Security to break down the doors. They’re expensive to replace.”

Kaito grinned coolly. “Ever practical.”

“Just watching the bottom line,” Takatora volleyed. “Of course, that’s what corporate bigshots do, you know.”

Stepping close again, with both hands Kaito grabbed the front of Takatora’s tailored shirt beneath the open suit coat. “Well, I hope the bottom line doesn’t include a few shirt buttons,” he commented dryly; and with one hard jerk, yanked the shirt open. Buttons clicked and scattered on the herring-bone hardwood parquetry.

Retaliating swiftly, Takatora clutched a fistful of Baron’s maroon shirt beneath the grey vest, eyes dilated with challenge and lust. “Maybe I should have taken you when you were in my custody. At least then you’d know what you were up against now.”

“Maybe you should have,” Kaito agreed, focus dropping to the taller man’s bare chest beneath the ripped-open shirt, then back up again to match the challenging gaze. “At least then you could have fantasized for a little while that you were the alpha wolf.”

The grip on Kaito’s vest jerked him closer, Takatora’s eyes utterly possessing the man in his grasp, teeth bared ever so slightly. “I _am_ the alpha wolf.” Then gripping the material of Kaito’s garments in both hands, he commented, “I hope these aren’t the only clothes the street rat owns,” and then it was Kaito’s buttons clattering on the high-gloss floor.

“Well, I’ll just send the tailoring bill to Yggdrasill,” Kaito promised, reaching up to dig fingers into the other man’s thick black hair and jerk Takatora’s face down to his.

Twisting a fistful of Kaito’s hair in return, Takatora met the vicious kiss ravenously, open-mouthed, tongues thrusting deep, probing, violating, no delicate hesitant fluttering to initiate love-making. Mouths moved over each other, trying to devour from every angle, as hot breath filled each other’s throat, and tongues duelled for dominance.

Bringing up his free hand, Takatora clutched Kaito’s jaw to force the other man’s mouth open even further and force his tongue all the way, almost to the point of gagging.

Kaito took it eagerly, hungrily, as though he had no trouble taking that or something even larger down his throat. Even in the haze of pleasure gathering at the edges of his consciousness, Takatora considered that before this liaison was over, he would have to discover if that was true.

Clutching Takatora’s hair brutally hard, Kaito forced the other man’s face closer, demanding more, and thrusting his own tongue as deep as possible into Takatora’s mouth. No less than their savage conflicts between Melon Armor and Banana Armor, this was a warrior’s battle, no rules, no holds barred.

Finally breaking the kiss, Takatora leaned his head to run his tongue and lips along the edge of Kaito’s jaw, then down a few inches to nip the taut muscle cord of Kaito’s neck. A small noise escaped Kaito’s throat, and that was another thing Takatora promised himself: that he would draw longer and deeper moans from Baron before this was over. Long before this was over.

Tongue licked up and down the cord, then down a bit further to nuzzle wetly in the sternal notch. At that, Kaito’s head arched back, and a little louder noise broke from his throat, sounding suspiciously like the beginning of a whimper. Yes, this was going just the way Takatora had envisioned.

Until Kaito's fingers slipped beneath the thin material of Takatora’s shirt to pinch a nipple roughly, and then it was the corporate president of Yggdrasill who couldn’t suppress a small whine of needy desire. The warm hand slid in further to palm the swell of his left pec; and almost of its own accord, Takatora’s body pushed against the pressure.

It had been quite awhile since he’d handled someone and been handled by someone, and he needed this. A dearth of possibilities was not the issue. Women – and not a few men – often came onto him, a rich, handsome, influential bachelor. But it was true what he had said to Kaito: running the Corporation left little time for extracurricular pleasures. Which made Professor Sengoku Ryōma the only one he’d shared sex with for at least the past year-and-a-half. Ever since the world as they knew it began to unravel. Ever since Helheim. Kaito had mentioned Mitsuzane, but Takatora would never dream of taking the boy – well, the man, because Mitsuzane had turned 18 last July – but that didn’t make a difference because he was still otōto-kun, and always would be.

The random times that he and the professor had bedded, he’d always gotten off hard and hot – and Ryōma knew how to make him beg and whimper deliciously. But beyond that, it really hadn’t been that satisfying. There was something about the corporate scientist that skated just past Takatora’s consciousness; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. As though Sengoku’s focus was always somewhere else. Not as in thinking about another lover, but that there was always another agenda, a hidden agenda, unfolding in the Ryōma’s mind. Even in sex, the needling thought couldn’t escape Takatora that he was just a test subject for Ryōma’s research, nothing more that a lab rat to the professor. And somewhere in the background noise, the tiny flicker of a sense danced, that one day Ryōma would prove traitor, betray him, lead him to his death. But of course that was ridiculous, Ryōma’s attitude might be more scientific than Takatora would have liked, but he was a friend, and definitely loyal to Yggdrasill and the elder Kureshima scion; and so Takatora would forcibly relegate that flicker of a concern back in some dim corner of his mind where it could easily be buried and ignored. At any rate, Ryōma was convenient, he was here. So maybe Takatora was just using Ryōma as much as the professor was using him.

At least Kumon Kaito wasn’t like that, no hidden agenda, no secret motivation. He and Takatora might be severe antagonists, but the Baron team leader was ruthlessly honest, always meant precisely what he said. There were no layers of dubious subtext that had to be dissected and interpreted.

Fingers found a dark nipple again and twisted it to the point of pain, and Takatora muffled little mewlings of need by working lips and tongue down a smooth sternum, leaving a cool wet saliva trail in their wake.

The sensation drew a quick intake of breath between Kaito’s lips. Then lacing his fingers in Takatora’s hair once again, Kaito pulled up him up from his work and brought his face close again for another brutal kiss, violating Takatora’s mouth as savagely as he could, and Takatora took it eagerly. Until Kaito pulled back a fraction of an inch, lips still touching, barely. “Bastard,” he murmured negligently against Takatora’s lips, “I’m going to fuck you raw.”

The obscene suggestion pulsed a pleasant sting from Takatora’s crotch to his solar plexus. “You can try,” he smiled without breaking contact; at the same time slipping the back of a hand down in front to touch the barest feather of promise to the bulge in Kaito’s trousers, “– if you’ve got… the _balls_ for it…” 

“You’ll know,” Kaito retorted, sliding his tongue along Kureshima’s lower lip, then nipping the fullness of the center just enough to draw blood, “when you have trouble sitting in your nice big executive chair afterwards.” Then slipping his hands beneath the suit-coat, Kaito pushed the garment off the other man’s shoulders and down to his elbows. Takatora took it the rest of the way, shrugging his arms out of the coat and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“You next,” Takatora insisted, unbuttoning Kaito’s grey vest. Long-coat and vest ended up on the pile as well. Takatora drank in the view of the other’s lean-muscled bare chest beneath the parted shirt-front. “Much better,” he pronounced, sliding both hands over Kaito’s pecs, then it was his turn to twist rose nipples and pinch them into hardness.

A soft breath hissed between Kaito’s teeth. Takatora’s fingers grazed over the smooth warm skin, fingertips tracing invisible designs. For a lingering moment, doing nothing to reciprocate, Kaito just looked down at those fingers plying their magic. Pressing his hands to Kaito’s flanks just under the ribcage, Takatora smiled – oh yes, the Beat Rider would be his before they were done. Despite the challenging talk, Kumon Kaito would submit to him. Not at first, of course, but Takatora could wait. And anyway, he wouldn’t want it too soon. The excitement of Baron aroused him only because of the man’s strength and unflagging hunger for battle. If he’d been soft and compliant, Takatora would never even have bothered to notice him. Of course the victory would ultimately belong to Takatora, just as it always did whenever Zangetsu and Baron clashed to blood.

Finally with a muttered, “You’re taking too long,” Kaito slipped a hand down to the front of his own pants to press the bulge growing there and rub a little up and down.

Takatora grinned, and pushing Kaito’s hand away, took its place with his own hand, lightly teasing the hardening length through the fabric, then pushing a little lower for one brief pass around the clothed balls. “Don’t tell me, the street rat is getting excited after all by the corporate bigshot.”

A quick intake of breath at the sensation, even as half-lidded eyes sparked dangerously, and lips skinned back over tight teeth challenged the very thought in Takatora’s mind: “If the alpha wolf thinks he owns this street rat, he’d better remember: _rats bite_.”

At that, Takatora chuckled out loud, even as he challenged back, “I’ve whipped your ass every time we’ve clashed in armor. What makes you think I won’t…” – a quick seductive glance at Kaito’s buttocks – “… whip it here?”

“Because you want me too much. You’re hungry,” Baron retorted. Then without waiting for permission, fingers reached for Takatora’s belt, unbuckled it, slid it out of the belt loops, and tossed it aside. “That gives me the advantage.”

“Enjoy the advantage while you have it, then,” the elder Kureshima riposted amusedly, taking his turn to just hang back and let Kaito explore. “But don’t forget: hungry wolves eat rats.”

“Sure,” Kaito agreed, unbuttoning and unzipping Takatora’s fly, “if they catch one.”

“You walked in here of your own free will. The door is locked,” Takatora reminded, as the release of his fly loosened the fabric’s uncomfortable binding of his swollen cock. “I’d say I caught one.” And anticipating Kaito's touch on his begging organ, his hips tipped forward an inch.

But Kaito ignored the eager flesh, and instead, pushed both hands down past the pants’ waistband and undershorts on either side, palms resting on pelvic ridges while fingers splayed out over cool smooth bare buttocks. That drew a slow hiss between Takatora’s teeth as fingers dug into the flesh of his ass, breaking into a sharp noise as one finger pushed down between his cheeks and brushed his anus. One brief touch to the little opening, then again rough squeezing massage of firm gluteal muscle, while fingernails scratched deep with the promise of long welts. Against the sensual stinging pain, Takatora’s head tilted back, and another long hiss escaped his lips. And Kaito suggested, “I’d say, you’d better think again who caught who.”

Fingernails dug deeper into the already-stinging scratches, and the pain only enhanced the slow burn that was gathering in cock and balls. Need was climbing now; need that had started the moment he had seen Kumon Kaito on the security cameras; and he insisted through tightening throat: “And now _you’re_ taking too long.”

“Am I?” Kaito taunted, “What – is this what you expected?” One hand still gripping his left buttock, the other hand slipped in front inside the soft cotton undershorts to take the hardening flesh in hand.

At the warm enveloping touch, Takatora moaned, and he sagged back against the edge of his desk as his legs threatened to give way under him. The squeezing grip increased the pulsating throb of blood filling his organ to fullness while sweet sensations skittered up from his genitals. Slowly, firmly, the grip slid from tip to root and back to tip again, and with a sudden tight contraction, a little drop of mucussy pre-cum pearled at the hole.

“Yesss…” Takatora hissed, letting his eyes drift shut and his body fall into the beginning of the climb to orgasm.

“Well, that’s too bad, because you’re not going to get it yet,” Kaito taunted dryly, taking just a brief moment more to rub the ball of his thumb and his forefinger over the wet head, then slipping his hand back out. 

At the loss of touch, Takatora moaned, caught half-way, the sensations pooling and swirling now without stimulation. He opened his eyes again to look questioningly at the man in front of him. 

Locking gazes, Kaito raised the slick thumb to his own lips, to sensually lick a brief taste of the pre-cum, then smeared the thumb over Takatora’s lips. Willingly Kureshima parted his lips, and presumptively Kaito pushed his wet forefinger into Takatora’s mouth. Without dropping his gaze, Takatora sucked on the finger, and rolled his tongue all over it, tasting his own pre-sem; and the erotic foreplay danced another tingle in his cock and testicles grown tight in their sac, demanding more massage, and Takatora could feel more pre-sem leaking out and dribbling down the erect shaft.

Reaching down into his own shorts, Takatora pulled his cock and scrotum all the way out so that he could handle his ignored flesh, but Kaito batted his hand away.

“Huh uh,” the street-dancer countered. “If you touch yourself again, I walk out. You want to touch something, you touch me. Make me ready to take you.”

Another tiny moan from full lips. Foreplay was good, but it was time for more. “Is that the way it’s going to be?”

“That’s the only way it’s going to be. I told you that right at the start.”

“Fine,” Takatora acknowledged, pushing pin-striped grey slacks and undershorts down off Kaito’s hips. “I’ll accede to that. But don’t make me wait too long.”

Appreciatively he looked down at the ex-Beat Rider’s equipment. The foreplay had already brought Kaito up as much as Takatora, and the swollen purple head was leaking too. Taking the slick shaft in hand, he noted that while Ryōma’s was long and lean like the man himself, Kaito’s was shorter but a lot thicker. In fact, Takatora considered that he probably had never taken one that big around. It would be a tight fit. When Ryōma took him, he could feel the length all the way up inside himself, and it slid against his prostate like silk on glass. And like silk on glass, electric scintillation would zing through his anus and rectum and cock and balls, and he would come in a blaze of euphoria. He wondered what Kaito would feel like inside him. No doubt Baron was right: he’d have a tough time sitting after this was over. Well, there were some things that were worth the pain – and this object in his grasp right now was definitely one of them. The thought made his own cock twitch and pulse with anticipation.

“I hope it’s what you expected,” Kaito was saying, pupils dilated with lust of his own, looking down at the hand sliding slowly but firmly up and down the shaft. “Because that’s what you’re going to get. I hope you can accommodate it.”

“I’ll take everything you’ve got,” Takatora promised. “But first you’re going to use your mouth on this.” And momentarily releasing Kaito’s organ, he raised his hand slick with the other man’s pre-cum to Kaito’s mouth. Kaito didn’t demur for even a moment, but again, eyes locked with Takatora’s, he parted his lips and sensually used his tongue on Takatora’s slick hand, then sucked each finger in turn, watching for the erotic effect on the taller man.

And it had an effect. Takatora’s breath deepened with rhythmic panting, his stance widened and automatically his hips began to jerk tiny suggestive thrusts. His hand went back to Kaito’s organ; and wrapping his fingers around it, pumped a few more strokes before nudging his thumb under the crown ridge.

A low grunt escaped Kaito’s lips, eyes half-closed, as he began pushing with his own hips to slide it in the curl of Takatora’s fingers. And Takatora grinned, then upped the ante by snugging one fingertip barely into the opening and probing just a little bit inside with the fingernail.

A sharp cry broke Kaito’s panting, and Takatora grinned wider. “What if I make you come right now?” he posed.

Sensation washing over Kaito, he was coherent enough to insist, “No. Not yet.”

But Takatora continued his teasing. “I can make you come right here in my hand. And then I’ll make you swallow all of it. How does that sound?”

Kaito tried to glower, but without much strength behind it. Sweat sheened his face and throat and chest beneath the shirt hanging open.

“Oh I do believe the street rat is losing his bite,” Takatora grinned. “Then what about this,” he suggested, releasing the captured flesh, “ – you don’t want me touching myself, then how about you taking care of both of us?” And pushing his pelvis close to Kaito’s, he laid Kaito’s organ against his own, then pressed Kaito’s hand to the job.

Willingly Kaito stroked and squeezed both together, slicking their pre-cum together. Electric tingles sang in the core of Takatora's body, with the sensation of the loose skin of Kaito’s uncut cock rubbing against his own.

And obviously Kaito wasn’t faring any better, head dropped back even as his fingers rubbed and stroked and slicked over tender flesh, playing over the dribbling crowns of each. Then Takatora reached to cup the back of Kaito’s head, lacing his fingers in the auburn hair and drawing it close for their foreheads to touch, even as each dragged great gulps of air. Again they kissed and kissed, desperate slobbery kisses, no finesse, each trying to possess the other absolutely.

Until Takatora knew his legs were going to give out in the next second and he would end up on the floor; and so pulling away from Kaito's grasp, he turned around and grabbed across the desk as he sagged against it.

“Kureshima…” Baron half-growled deep in his throat. Then reaching around Takatora’s waist, he tugged the slacks and undershorts down to the knees, baring buttocks and thighs. A long sigh breathed from Kaito’s throat, as he ran his slicked hand over the smooth cool skin, while his other hand reached in front between the desk and Takatora’s groin to press the aroused organ, then moved lower to fully cup the scrotum and hold it pressed up against the underparts of the pelvic bones.

Takatora moaned at the wash of sensation spreading in every direction; responsively gluteal and pelvic muscles clenched and unclenched beneath the intimate touch while hips began to move erotically, pushing his cock against the desk. “Kumon,” he retorted breathily, “do it. Do it now….”

Moving his hand under the right buttock, Kaito slid fingers slick with pre-cum into the cleavage, touching the anus, then slid up to the tailbone, then back down again; and with a long intake of breath between closed teeth, Takatora pushed his hips forward again.

A wet finger tested the opening, touching it again, then pressed in to the first knuckle, breaking a little noise from the other man’s throat. Kaito pulled it out again, then pushed the whole finger in to feel him inside and move around inside. At that, Takatora gasped and lurched his hips again.

Ryōma would do that to him, fingering him, knowing how sensitive that part of Takatora’s anatomy was, and keep it up interminably, rotating and probing, twisting his finger inside, teasing, toying, while Takatora’s noises continued degrading by the moment into helpless whines and moans. No doubt the scientist was keeping notes to see how long it took each time before Takatora finally slid into an incoherent whimpering puddle; and only then would Ryōma get down to real business and give them both release.

Takatora hoped that Kaito wouldn’t take that long, he didn’t want to turn into a mewling mess in front of Baron. At any rate, he was equally sure that Kaito didn’t have that much control left at this point in time any more than he did. He could feel the pre-cum that Kaito pushed in lubricating him inside. He would need a lot of lubrication to take Kaito’s cock, and Kaito knew it too. And taking himself in hand once again, the Team Baron leader pressed the dribbling tip to Takatora’s opening, then fingered the emission inside, encircling and wiping it around.

“Kumon,” Takatora groaned. “That’s enough. Get on with it.”

“All right,” Kaito finally announced. “But you’re going to have to spread wide to take me.”

Reaching back with both hands, Takatora spread himself, legs apart, steadying himself for what he knew would be painful.

With one hand Kaito took hold of himself; with the other he inserted a finger again, palm up, and pressed, then another finger. Then pushing the leaking head to the opening, he started to work it in. Even with their foreplay, it still was difficult, but by now Kaito was rock-hard. Takatora spread as best he could, and finally the little sphincter muscle gave way and Kaito penetrated an inch. In response, a sharp hiss forced its way between Takatora’s teeth, followed by a low groan. He was stretched hard and it hurt.

Gripping Takatora’s hips, thumbs forcing the cleavage, Kaito pushed an inch further, eliciting another groan from the man bent over the desk. Grasping the left edge of the furniture for purchase with one hand, and pressing on the desk-top with the other, Takatora steadied himself to give some resistance for Kaito to push against.

Another inch. A knee nudged Takatora’s legs apart farther. Kaito’s hands gripped the front of Takatora’s hip-bones to hike him up just enough for Kaito to get a good angle. Takatora was tight, but slick enough inside that Kaito could begin to work in and out. Still Takatora caught his lower lip in his teeth, he was being stretched to the limit, and he could assume he’d be torn before this was over.

Each thrust in a little deeper, pulling back a fraction, then thrusting in again, Kureshima rocking in opposition. Until finally one stiff push accompanied by a rough grunt; and Takatora’s hips were yanked back to snug his ass against Kaito’s groin. Wiry pubic hairs scratched his buttocks, and he was filled more fully than Ryōma had ever done to him. The hard thickness inside him nudged against his prostate, stiffening his own erection again which he’d lost slightly with the pain of penetration.

Kaito’s breath came noisily. Sweat dripped on Takatora’s back through the shirt fabric. Kaito pulled out to the crown ridge, then pushed back in again. Out, then in, each thrust a little easier than the previous one with the pre-cum lubrication. Together they created a rhythm, Takatora pushing back with each thrust deep inside him, squeezing the sphincter with each push, and relaxing with each pull out. Kaito moaned.

The fullness moving in his sheath and rubbing back and forth against his prostate increased Takatora’s climb to orgasm. He wanted to take himself in hand, not only to bring himself to climax but also to cushion his erect cock from being rammed again the edge of the desk with each forward thrust.

Reading Takatora’s mind, Kaito reached down to wrap his right hand around the ignored flesh and begin sliding the loose skin up and down. As he reached the head, he ringed just the thumb and forefinger under the ridge, then curled all the fingers to push back down, then fingers spreading over his testicles and pressing them, squeezing them, rolling them around in their sac, and Takatora couldn’t help but squirm. Again up to the ridge, pressing the ball of a thumb against the slit, straining a moan from Takatora’s throat, then back down again to massage the scrotum. Again, and this time snugging the tip of the forefinger into the dribbling slit and pressing in, the fingernail scratching ever so slightly; and Takatora’s moans devolved into helpless wordless begging.

Between the cock and ball stimulation and the fullness plundering his ass, Takatora felt orgasm gather in his loins and he went to work, slamming back onto the penetrating organ, then thrusting forward into the pumping hand. So close, so close. Sweat dampened his hair and dribbled between his eyes. His mouth was dry from the heavy breathing.

But just before he went over the edge, Kaito’s slick hand gripped his cock tightly, and he paused his own pumping to prevent Takatora’s ejaculation.

Caught right on the edge of release, Takatora groaned helpless frustration. “Kumon…!” he gasped.

“Not yet,” Kaito gasped, his own breath driving hard and hot. “You’ll come when I let you come, and not a moment before.” Only when Takatora lost some of his erection, did Kaito release his grip.

And then it began all over again, the hard pumping deep inside him, and the firm stroking of cock and balls. Kaito was close, rhythm increasing, pants deeper and harder. The rough forward strokes lifted Takatora up a few inches. Then leaning down, Kaito pushed Takatora’s shirt up to his shoulders and lay on top of him, bare skin to bare skin, sweat slicking between Kaito’s chest and Takatora’s back. Kaito was ramming now, and Takatora felt the burn as his tortured anus tore a little. The pain just increased his own drive. They would come together, each was so close.

But just as Kaito roared his own climax, with Takatora right on the edge, he tightened down on Takatora’s cock once again.

Helplessly Takatora lurched up, nearly screaming with need, as Kaito rode him viciously hard, ramming and ramming, frictioning back and forth through his burning sphincter. One fist twisted a handful of Takatora’s hair, pulling his head up and arching his back. Takatora groaned, feeling spurt after spurt of hot slimy wetness fill his bowels, and he wanted to come, he needed to come so badly, squirming in desperation.

One more surge, Kaito’s body taut and trembling. Then completely wrung out, he collapsed over Takatora, chest heaving; and Takatora could feel the hard breath panting hot and moist against the back of his neck, even as he felt the large cock plugging him.

“Kumon…!” he muttered again. Then decided if Kaito was refusing him, he would take matters in hand regardless of what Kaito had said, and damn the man after all. Working his right hand down between himself and the desk, he gripped his organ again.

“I said, no…” Kaito gasped between pants, shoving Takatora’s hand away again.

“So is that all?” Kureshima retorted, still pressed under Baron’s weight, still filled with the man. “You’re going to leave me like this? Is this some kind of revenge for something?”

“So impatient,” Kaito drawled, still trying to catch his breath. Finally when his breathing had settled down to some semblance of normal, he pushed himself up on trembling arms, and reaching between them, he eased his softening organ out of Takatora’s opening; and Takatora groaned at the sharp burn of his abused hole.

Stiffly Kaito steadied himself on his feet again. And pulling the tail of Takatora’s shirt back down, he wiped his wet cock on the sweat-soaked fabric. Then taking hold of Takatora’s right shoulder with his left hand, he pushed him around to face each other.

Takatora looked down at Kaito’s deflating organ slick and streaked with blood, compared to his own organ still fully erect and begging for attention. “Then what do you plan on doing about this?” he challenged.

Taking two fistfuls of Takatora’s open shirt-front, Kaito urged him backward once again to shove him back on wobbly legs against the plate-glass window behind the desk. “I told you, all of Zawame City is going to watch what I do to you.” Again grabbing Takatora’s hair, he jerked his head down for a rough sloppy kiss, sweat-slicked body pressed up hard to Takatora’s, as tongues violated again.

In front Takatora could feel Kaito’s organ pressed to his own; from behind, the cold window glass and the cold damp shirt tail pressed against his bare buttocks, and Kaito’s cum oozing down his cleavage and down the backs of his thighs. Breaking from the kiss, Kaito looked up at Takatora’s desperate face.

Kaito had toyed with him as long as he could stand, his erection was so hard it was painful; and now with Kaito’s cock pressed to his, it was more than he could bear. And he broke.

“… please…” he murmured desperately.

And Baron grinned, a cold victory grin.

Then dropped to his knees in front of Kureshima, left hand cupping Takatora’s balls, and kiss-ravaged lips caressing the leaking purple cockhead.

And Takatora groaned his own victory.

Watching Takatora’s expression, Kaito’s lips closed around the coronal ridge, tongue slipped all over the head, then nudged into the slit. A tight indrawn breath hissed through Takatora’s teeth as his eyes rolled up and half-closed. Kaito's squeezed his balls just barely enough to add a sweet edge of pain, and Takatora couldn’t help a tiny whimper escaping. Even with his mouth engaged, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of Kaito’s lips. Next, the tongue probed up and down the cord running along the underside of the cock.

And then Kaito plunged his mouth all the way down on the begging cock. And Takatora thrust in. Kaito had no trouble opening his throat to take it, and Takatora could guess that this wasn’t the first time Kaito had performed this act. 

And then with that accomplished, Kaito pulled back and off, and Takatora drew another gasp, feeling the slight air movement from the ventilation duct whisper a cool waft of air around his saliva-wet organ. Again the tip of Kaito’s tongue snugged into the slit, and Takatora’s hips jerked forward a fraction of an inch. Glancing up, Kaito ascertained the effect of his stimulation on the man slouched against the window starting to lose his breath, then returned all his focus to the work in front of him.

Sucking and pinching with his lips down the cord again, then lifting up the scrotum in one hand, he closed his lips over the left ball, took it all in his mouth, sucked and licked and gave a full testicle massage. Again Takatora groaned, as his pelvis shifted around, trying to increase the stimulation.

Then the right half of the scrotal sac; and even as the mouth sucked hard, Kaito’s hand continued the massage on the left.

“Kumon…” Takatora groaned again, tangling rough fingers in the other man’s hair to keep him to his work. As much as he had wanted to come – and did want to come – now he wanted to hold off just a little longer. All along, he had planned on taking Kumon’s ass, but taking his mouth now was so much more exquisite.

Again the left testicle, sucked and prodded, then the right once more. Then finally determining that both balls were fully wet and stimulated, Kaito returned his attention to the heavy swollen cock. This time, rather than taking it all at once, he just took the head, played his tongue over the spongy flesh. Then another inch, then another, his mouth working the loose skin up and down, up and down. Another inch, pulling the foreskin over the head, then pushing it back down. Then another wet lick all around the crown ridge, then sucking a little bit at the hole. Then back down another inch, then up again, pulling off now, but keeping his wet lips in contact with the wet cockhead, kissing it, then back down again further, up just a little bit. Then down all the way, sucking hard. Then pulling back one more time and glancing up again at Takatora’s face, with a little bit of a challenge, he covered the head with his mouth, then took the edge of the slit between his teeth and nipped ever so slightly. At the suggestion of a threat to the very most delicate part of his entire anatomy, Takatora’s eyes widened as white-hot excitement surged straight up from his genitals to the pleasure center of his brain.

And that was it. Both fists tangled in Kaito’s hair, he rammed down Kaito’s throat and exploded, testicles tightening and cum bursting from his organ. Now he was the one slamming back and forth in Kaito’s mouth, wave after wave of orgasm surging over him, filling Kaito’s mouth with fluid. And Kaito took it all, swallowed, and took some more. Climax like he’d never felt before roared through every cell of his body. It roiled through him, tingling every nerve, and he rode with it, giving in to it completely, until finally, finally, after a few more half-hearted thrusts, it drifted away, leaving him utterly spent and drained. Kaito pulled back, and Takatora’s legs gave way and his ass slid down the cold window, as he sagged to forehead and elbows and knees on the floor, gasping for breath through an air-burned throat, and heart pounding as though it would burst right out of his chest.

“Kureshima.” Sitting back on his heels, Kaito yanked the man’s head up by a fistful of sweaty hair, then prodded with his tongue until Takatora’s mouth opened slightly. Roughly he forced it in to give Takatora a mouthful of his own cum, making sure Takatora received the full musky salty taste and swallowed it, then leaned his own face close to Takatora’s. “Kureshima,” he repeated. “What’s the code to unlock the door?”

“Hunh…?” Takatora mumbled, sex-muddled brain trying to piece together what Kaito was asking, before finally managing to answer, “… nine-three… seven-eight-four…”

Carelessly shoving Takatora’s head, Kaito released his grip and stood up, but then just waited there over the huddled man, watching, until reality gradually clarified for the man.

Still trying to catch his breath, Takatora looked up, locking eyes with the other man. “Kumon… Kaito…” he breathed. “So…” he managed a grin, “the street rat has some valuable talent after all.”

“And the company bigshot can do more than just sit around in his big fancy tower,” Kaito smirked as he put himself away. “That was good,” he acknowledged. “But don’t expect roses and candy now.” One more rough kiss, then shoving Kureshima back casually, he stepped away. “You know,” he commented dryly, “the alpha wolf looks good on his knees. He should be that way more often.”

“Who knows,” the head of Yggdrasill Corporation hinted, a pointed smile of his own as he raised the back of a hand to cum-smeared lips, “… with a certain Beat Rider around.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll come around again sometime, or maybe I won’t,” Kaito tossed back. “Just go ahead and re-play it in your mind the next time you’re jerking off.” And with a casual wave of a hand, he strolled back out of the office.

Takatora smiled to himself, watching after Kaito. Regardless of what he said, Baron would return.

Absolutely, without a doubt.  
  


* * * * * **F I N I S** * * * * *


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